A lubricious lady from Kent
one night to a nightclub she went;
there, she spied a young guy
thought she'd give it a try;
turned out, given that up for Lent!
So she lingered around at the bar;
when soon entered a Jolly Jack Tar.
Hello sailor, she said,
will you take me and wed?
He shot off, in his getaway car!
I was a good Buddhist jack tar,
Confident to sail this ocean of time alone,
All desire renounced and stowed away
Like smuggled cargo I pretend is legal trade.
I was well-practiced in the art of navigating perils,
Steering clear of revenue cutters, hostile native islanders,
And other such threatening complications.
Now has a typhoon struck that threatens contentment,
The swells have made me dizzy
And my sea legs seem uncertain
As I ride Poseidon’s roller coaster sick as a lubber,
An unlucky smuggler caught in the act
Of feeling long dormant desires stage mutiny
And relieve me of command of my senses,
Lusting after that other salty wonder.
I was born in a landlocked getaway town
Where all the colors were black, gray, or brown.
Jobs at the steel mill were ratcheting down.
It was not in my future to stay.
So, I took a long walk off a very short pier,
An unschooled, untraveled recruit buccaneer
On a quest to cross Neptune’s vast salty frontier.
Hopped a slow boat to China one day.
Underway on the Crescent City, it seemed
The ocean was wider than I’d ever dreamed.
A ship load of sinners, our souls unredeemed
Steaming west toward whatever there was.
Keelung told Hong Kong to call Singapore.
Subic Bay badgered Mombasa for more.
Sea legs, as always unsteady ashore,
Even more so with liquor and drugs.
Bilge water sloshed in the depths of the hold.
The mizzen mast learned what the typhoon foretold.
I was sea duty tempered and Shell Back enrolled;
Wasn’t nothing but maritime norm.
I was born in a hard luck blue collar town.
Half the way broken and half the way down.
But time gifts its renaissance scepter and crown
To a jack tar who’s weathered the storm.
The Mariner
Crystal tears falling down my cheeks
Behind the curtain face peeks
My skin so pale with broken lips
Wait for jack-tar and daily trips
The mariner stood so great he is
My soul is jumping into bliss
His face and lips and all i miss
So great feeling cant get through this
How hard i tried to end this dream
It is harder than all it seems
My heart and soul forever scream
The thoughts of him what would it bring
He'll travel far into the north
And leave the ship into the port
No voice came out from my mouth
Cant understand what's all about
Far away in Mekong River
Standing still the pretty lover
I dont know how i can recover
Mariner's love is not forever
Were the dolphins the Mermaids of ancient times?
Along with whales were they guilty of heinous crimes?
Jolly Jack Tar, out sailing distant, tropical oceans,
Did they succumb to their missing home emotions?
Dolphins singing invitations to a Davy Jone's party,
Sea mammals are very brainy and so very crafty.
However, if they were seen and to be sure they were.
Their songs were a warning, like don't swim here.
Sadly even way back then man ignored a warning.
Dolphins looked on, now all silent, all in mourning.
The sailors, those still aboard blamed the songs
Not on Dolphins, on Mermaids who swam in throngs.
Inviting the sailors to come join them in the deep
Those that did were fooled, finding eternal sleep.
The Dolphins had done their best to humans teach,
Still, to this day lead us safely out of dangers reach
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!
Entered the Dolphins - Poetry Contest, sponsored by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver.
Composed and transcribed to the online web 20th December 2017
And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the whistle of wind in cutthroat pipes,
the jolly japes and spring heeled capers
in the sepia pulp of the Sunday papers
and in all the Jack Tar bilge in your head,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.
And you will know me by the trail of dead
the gory tales of bright crimson stripes.
the intestinal spool of viscera and gutting,
the slashing swipe of steel blades cutting,
and the opening wounds awash with red,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.
And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the love-a-duck and strike-me-blind,
the dear boss letters and cunning stunts,
the hunter or hunted in Whitechapel hunts,
and the feverish sweats in every bed,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.
And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the buckle-my-shoe and daily grind,
the Juwes and gin and pea soup nights,
the whore flesh slaughter and ghastly sights,
and the legends of all I did and said,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.
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